


Detective Tinsley Jr

by aimeeisdumb



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-16
Updated: 2019-11-16
Packaged: 2021-02-07 08:22:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 8,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21454957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aimeeisdumb/pseuds/aimeeisdumb
Summary: When Aimee Tinsley, the daughter of world-renowned detective C.C Tinsley is denied to become her father's assistant, she decides to take matters into her own hands. The Mystery of The California Killer has stumped detectives for years but, Aimee is sure she can catch this killer. Will Aimee be able to discover the killer herself, or will she end up like one of his victims?
Relationships: Ricky Goldsworth/C. C. Tinsley
Comments: 2
Kudos: 24





	1. "You know, I came up with a crazy idea."

"Yeah, I can be there in an hour. Any idea when he died?" C.C Tinsley murmurs into the telephone.

He sits at the kitchen table, his legs sprawled out from the wooden chair, his thick, uncombed hair bristling along his forehead like a roofing thatch. The pen was scratching along the yellow pad as he listens.  
Aimee pretends not to listen while she flips pancakes and watches the bacon sizzle on the hot frying pan.

"That long in a bathtub full of water?" C.C asks. "Seal the doors and windows and the hallway if you can."

"A floater. That doesn't sound good." Aimee mumbles under her breath.

She knows from her books what water did to the skin. Outside a bird starts to chirp. It was strange, Aimee thinks. The way routine things keep right on going even when a death call comes into the Tinsley house. An anonymous body sits bloating in a tub of water, and yet golden California sunlight still pours through the kitchen.

"Well, you just tell the sheriff he can wait for me to finish my breakfast. It's only seven in the morning, and a few more minutes won't make any difference to the poor fool in the tub. He's past caring."

The person on the line must have said something because C.C counters with,

"I'm not ghoul, Deputy, I'm just the best detective in this state. And just so you know, it's always better to eat before a call- the taste of decay stays in the mouth too long after. Good-bye."

C.C hangs up the phone with a click while Aimee puts his three pancakes and 5 slices of bacon on his plate. Aimee adds some scrambled eggs and sets the plate in front of her dad.

"Thank ya, Darlin'" C.C smiles and kisses his daughter on the cheek.

"You're welcome, Papa," Aimee says, grabbing her plate and sitting across from her dad.

"Would you mind grabbing my folder?" C.C asks. "It should be in the front seat of my car."

Aimee got up and walked out to her father's car and found the folder easily. The death certificates catch her eyes, many were empty.

It would be easier if Aimee's other father were confirmed dead. There would be some completeness in that. Instead, her father had just disappeared one day, and after that, there was nothing. Ricky Goldsworth was a stranger who hadn't bothered to call or write in years, a ghost who never haunts. Once, when Aimee was five, she and C.C had curled up on their swing, watching the velvet of night until the stars appeared, the first pale, and then bright as they burned into the night sky.

"Tell me about Daddy," She'd asked.

Against the rhythm of the squeaking swing, he told her about Ricky, how he loved dogs and the color red and other things Aimee could no longer remember. But she can still recall snuggling into her fathers scratchy wool jacket and asking,

"But why did he go? Where is he?"

"I-I don't know. I just don't know," He'd whispered into her golden blonde hair. "But I have to believe that one day soon he'll come to us. He'll get better and he'll come home. You'll see."

As the years passed he spoke of him less and less until he stopped mentioning Ricky's name altogether. There'd been no divorce, no explanation, nothing. Sometimes, in the quiet of the night, Aimee will allow herself to think of her other father, but only for a moment. It was better to focus on the practical, on the here, and the now, on things she can taste and see and touch. Her reality was the Tinsley duo- father and daughter living in the biggest house in the city.

Aimee walks back into the house and hands the folder to her Dad, he thanks her and she goes to sit down.

"The Deputy's son is working for him now," C.C says, his mouth full of eggs. "He needs to toughen up. He's not great at his job so far."

"Is that so?" Aimee asks. "You know, I came up with a crazy idea."

"And that would be?"

"Sense the Deputy got an assistant, I think you need one too. You're the one that needs a helping hand. You're always working too hard and I think an assistant would help."

"Well," C.C says, sipping his coffee. "I'm not sure if I'd get along with many of the detectives. They're not very good and try to become better than me.

"I was thinking someone that would be ready to go at a moments notice." Aimee continues eagerly. "Someone who understands the field. Someone you could trust!"

"And who would this miracle worker be?"

Aimee pauses for a moment to take a breath before answering, "Me."

"You!"

"Yes, me. Please, let me work with you."

C.C leans back into his chair and looks at his daughter before sadly sighing.

"Oh, Darling, you don't know what you're asking. It's a hard job-different from what you see in your books. What I do is real life. I'm the lead detective, which means I do it all. I have to pull dead people out of cars and bathtubs. You don't want to see that."

"But there's nothing to worry about!" Aimee promises. "I'm a straight-A student, I don't do drugs or smoke or do any of that stuff. And I already know what I want to do with my life: I want to be a detective. You're always saying we don't get enough time together and this would change that. Papa, my plan makes sense- you know it does."

"I'm sorry Sweetie," C.C sighs, grabbing his things. "You're still a kid and I can't let you see that stuff. When you're older."

C.C kisses his daughter on her head.

"I love you, stay safe. I'll be back soon." He says.

"I love you too." Aimee sighs.

She watches out of the window as her father pulls out of the driveway and she walks back to the table. She grabs the dishes and sets them in the sink carefully. She grabs another crime book and studies the cases.

"I could crack these so easily," Aimee whispers. "If only I was given the chance."

After hours of scattered books around her C.C opens the front door with a bag of fast food.

"Hi, Papa!" Aimee cheerfully greets. "What happened?"

"Just the California Killer again." C.C sighs. "I swear I'm right on his tail."

Aimee nods and follows her Dad as he walks into the kitchen and sets the bag onto the counter.

"I grabbed you some dinner. I'll be in my office." C.C kisses his daughter on the head. "Go to bed soon, I have loads of work."

"Okay, Goodnight Papa." Aimee weakly smiles and hugs her Dad.

"Night Darling." C.C says and heads to his office.

By the time C.C woke up Aimee had drunk his entire pot of coffee.

"Honey?" He groggily asks. "What are you doing?"

Aimee jumps a bit before turning to face her dad.

"Research." She nervously says.

C.C looks around to see Aimee with papers all over the place and using her cork board.

"I might be onto the California Killer." She smiles.


	2. "Please. Go to bed."

"I think you need sleep," C.C says getting up from his desk space.

"No!" Aimee protests. "I swear I'm onto him."

C.C crouches down so his light brown eyes meet her bright blue eyes.

"Honey," He says, softly. "Please. Go to bed."

C.C has to try hard to take care of Aimee. It's so hard being a single parent to a young girl. He's been beating himself up for not being around her as much but he has to work to keep the family afloat. Aimee softens at the sight of her exhausted, workaholic father.

"Alright." Aimee sighs.

C.C leads her up the stairs and into her pink bedroom. Aimee crawls into her soft bed, instantly feeling warm and comforted.

"Goodnight Darling," C.C says, kissing his daughter on her head.

"Goodnight Papa." Aimee smiles softly.

C.C shuts the door, making Aimee surrounded in darkness. Aimee can't relax. How could she sleep when someone so evil was roaming the streets. But, wasn't Aimee evil too? Aimee believes she is. She doesn't feel like the other girls. She can shoot a gun with almost perfect aim- she's working on it.

The rest of the girls dream of marrying a fireman but Aimee couldn't care less.

Aimee could read horror stories about ghosts and ghouls and be fascinated. She would dream of someday searching for killers or monsters, just like some other boys. But they were boys. Aimee could look at killers and not flinch the slightest bit. 

Maybe she was evil. She wonders if she's going to go to hell. Maybe she'll meet Ricky there. Maybe he still likes the color red. Maybe he'd tell her all about dogs and the adventures he went on before he passed. Maybe He would try to count her freckles or joke about how short she is. Maybe Ricky would make her more tough and teach her everything he knows. But, Aimee knows in her heart that he's dead. The heart that aches for him to come back and tell her how much she means to him. She just wanted him to tell her that he loved her. Because Aimee loves him. And Aimee hates that about herself.

Aimee hates a lot of things about herself. Like the way she misses people and how she gets sad often. How she sometimes becomes soft. She just wants to be tough and brave all the time.

Aimee knows she can find this monster, but how can she get him? She's only a kid and a girl at that. Then it hits her.

The California Killer only strikes at night so, why doesn't she strike at night too? That was it! She doesn't sleep much at night anyway, so what harm could it do? Aimee feels her chest flutter with excitement as she plans out her next moves.


	3. "See ya there deputy."

"Fine." C.C finally sighs. "But, you need to stay within sight. You're lucky your dad is the best detective in the world."

"Thank you thank you thank you!!!" Aimee yells, hugging her father as tight as possible.

C.C had finally agreed to take her to the station. Thank God! Aimee knows where she can get her information now.

"Get ready," C.C smiles. "We'll leave in ten minutes."

"Already beat ya, Papa!" Aimee grins, taking off her pajamas to reveal her clothes underneath.

C.C chuckles and rubs his eyes. Aimee runs to her bedroom and softly brushes through her mid-back length blonde hair. She grabs her brown satchel and looks in the mirror. She can feel her heart flutter with excitement for the day.

"Aimee!" A voice yells. "Time to go!"

Aimee giggles and runs down the many stairs to greet her father who is holding the door open for her. She skips out of the house into the beautiful day and sits in the front seat of the car.

"Eager, aren't we?" C.C asks, getting into the car.

"Of course I am!" Aimee smiles brightly. "I get to spend the whole day with you and I get to watch you work."

"You and that Thompson kid should get along," C.C says, starting the car and backing out. "He's a good kid. A nervous one."

"Well, I'm thrilled to meet him I suppose," Aimee says, looking out the car window.

The butterflies attacking her stomach were getting more vicious by the second and they start to feel like they're going up to her throat. She watches the hundreds of people outside, living their own lives. Girls drinking milkshakes with boys, Men heading to work, Women walking hand in hand with their children. Hundreds of people living their own fascinating lives.

"Well, are ya coming?" C.C asks, stopping the car.

Aimee practically falls out of the car in excitement and grabs her father's arm.

"Come on!" Aimee smiles, dragging her father to the police station.

"I'm coming!" C.C chuckles and follows his daughter.

They enter the building and the familiar smell of cigarette smoke fills Aimee's tiny nose. Aimee admires the surroundings, fascinated by the men working and the bustling of the station.

"Come on kiddo!" C.C says, grabbing Aimee's arm softly.

Aimee follows her father into her small office. It looks much like C.C's office at home. Papers scattered everywhere, empty coffee cups, newspaper clippings on the wall and a picture of Aimee on his desk. Aimee sets her bag and jacket onto a chair and looks over to her father who is already working at his desk.

"Coffee?" Aimee quickly asks.

"Yes please," C.C says, looking up. "Make sure-"

"Four sugars, two teaspoons of milk and a pinch of salt to keep it fresh." Aimee interrupts, standing in the door frame and holding his favorite mug.

Aimee walks out of her dads' office and heads straight for the kitchen, ignoring the people staring at her. She grabs the warm coffee pot and starts to pour the brew into C.C's cup, the one she decorated for him. She heard someone walk up behind her and turned around after adding four sugars.

"Hello!" The young boy greets.

There's a boy around 13 standing by Aimee. He has short brown hair and light green eyes framed by glasses. He's oddly skinny and tall, around 5'11. Still shorter than her father, however. He looks very awkward and almost like he doesn't belong here.

"So," Aimee says, crossing her arms. "I presume you're Deputy Thompson's son. James Thompson, right?"

"How do you know my name?" The tall brunette boy asks alarmingly.

"I know everything about everyone." Aimee smiles. "Besides, my father works with your father."

"Oh, are you..." The boys thinks to himself.

"Tinsley," Aimee says. "Aimee Tinsley."

"Ah yes," James says. "That's what I was going to say."

"Sure you were." Aimee smiles.

"Well, it's nice to meet you," James says.

"Nice meeting you too," Aimee says, looking up at the tall boy before adding two teaspoons of milk to her fathers' cup.

"What brings you down to the station?" He asks, twiddling his thumbs nervously.

"Well," Aimee thinks for a moment before finally adding in a pinch of salt. "I'm not convinced if I can tell you right here. Right now but, if you clean the bagel off your shirt and meet me outside in 10 minutes, I can tell you all about it."

James looks down to his dirty vest and dusts off the crumbs.

"Sounds like a deal." He says.

"See ya there deputy." Aimee smiles before fake saluting him and walking off with her father's coffee cup, leaving the boy awestruck.


	4. "So, you're trying to prove yourself by finding some criminal?"

"Can I take a walk?" Aimee asks, setting down her father's coffee cup. "I never get to walk around the city."

C.C thinks for a moment and takes a long sip of his coffee.

"Alright." He sighs. "Why don't you get yourself something nice while you're out?"

C.C hands his daughter some money and she hugs him, making sure to thank him and grabs her bag and trench coat. She rushes out of the building and into the busy sidewalk, waiting for James to show up. After a couple of seconds, the nervous-looking boy emerges from the building, giving a small wave to the girl. They start to walk together and James suddenly breaks the silence.

"So why exactly are you at the station?" James asks.

"Well," Aimee starts, looking at her boots as she walks. "I've got a dream, I guess you could call it. Anyways, I'm trying to solve a certain case. This particular case has fascinated my father and I for years. From looking at my fathers' research I believe I may be hot on his tail."

"So, you're trying to prove yourself by finding some criminal?" James asks.

"Not just some criminal, the California Killer," Aimee smirks.

James stops straight in his tracks.

"No way!" He laughs. "You can't crack that! Not even your father has been able to!"

"You really think that?" Aimee smirks. "Well be prepared to swallow your words."

James chuckles.

"I'm serious!" Aimee says.

"Well, if you're the detective you'll need a deputy."

"Are you asking to be my assistant?"

"N-no!" The boy stumbles.

"You are." Aimee smiles. "Listen, I'll let you join me but only because I'm proving you wrong."

"Its a deal." James nods. "When were we starting this little investigation of yours?"

"I'm starting tonight. My dad usually falls asleep around 2-3 AM so I'll be out of my house at 3:30." Aimee explains. "And anyway, I can always sneak out. I've got a hardworking father he won't find out."

"And where are we meeting?" James asks.

"The coffee place on third street. There I can present my evidence and you can officially decide if you would like to join me."

"Well, I'll be sure to meet you there." James smiles.


	5. "How could someone be so evil?"

Aimee spends the rest of the day with her dad, managing to sneak some other pieces of things she needed to know about the California Killer and putting them in her evidence folder. After the pair got home Aimee dismissed herself to bed and waited for her father to fall asleep at his desk per usual.

Aimee sneaks into her father's office and upon seeing him passed out she grabs her jacket. She slowly opens the front door and closes it almost silently. She holds her satchel close to her as she walks down the cold empty streets. It feels almost unreal. During the day the city is so busy but now it was practically empty. The only thing lighting the streets are the dim street lamps which only seem to work half of the time. Aimee soon starts hearing familiar Italian songs and starts to hum along.

Aimee knows Italian. Of course, she does, what else happens when you leave a girl home alone all day?

Aimee also knows some Spanish. She can never figure out where she learned it or even how but she knows some. It's much like the stray memories she sometimes has. Sometimes she'll remember a certain part of a song she's never heard before. Maybe she's just crazy. She starts to wonder if a monster would snatch her up in the streets. She sort of wishes it does. Maybe that's what happened to Ricky.

God, why was she thinking about him again? He's gone. Forever. He's not real. Aimee knows she needs to focus on what's real. What she can feel and taste and touch. Not what she can dream of. Not any of those lies.

In the distance, the coffee shop comes into her view so she speed walks the rest of the way. She opens the door to see the familiar tall boy sitting at a table. She rushes over to the table and pulls out a chair from across the boy. She grabs her satchel and pulls out a manila folder, detailing all of her research.

"Did type all that?" James asks.

"Of course," Aimee says. "Besides some of the newspaper articles."

Aimee pulls out a specific paper and slides it across the table.

"Seven people in this month alone," Aimee says.

"Oh, God," James says, covering his mouth. "How could someone be so evil?"

"Upon doing some excess research I've discovered that all his victims are somehow correlated to something in a negative way," Aimee explains. "They are never truly innocent."

"So what, they're like, murderers?" James asks, looking over the paper.

"Not exactly," Aimee says. "Most likely part of the Mafia that's in this town."

"There's a Mafia in this town?!"

Aimee wheezes a bit.

"Of course there is."

"So how do you know that it isn't the Mafia that's committing these crimes?" James asks.

"Well, if the coroner's reports are accurate which they approximately 100% are, the victims were all stabbed," Aimee says, handing James the corners report.

"And that means?"

"When there's a stabbing, it most likely means the attacker was filled with rage or paranoia. The attacks were personal." Aimee says. "They killer knows these men. And he wants them dead."


	6. "Please never describe a murder like that again."

"So did he plan these?" James asks.

"I mean, potentially it could be premeditated." Aimee sighs. "But stabbing is also an act of passion and anger."

"Please never describe a murder like that again."

Aimee smirks.

"Then again the killer has been leaving notes," Aimee says. "Things as 'Catch Me If You Can!' and such."

"So who's your suspect?" James asks.

"I'm going to be completely honest with you," Aimee says, leaning on the table. "I know for a fact this guy is off the grid."

"What?"

"He's clearly very experienced and ingenious," Aimee explains. "He knows what he's doing."

"Is that why he hasn't been caught."

"Precisely."

"So how are we going to catch him?" James asks.

"Well," Aimee says, taking out a map. "He tends to commit the act in alleyways or side streets and it's clearly in this area. We could probably stake out somewhere."

"And get murdered by him?"

"That's the price you gotta pay to be in this field."

"I don't even want to be a deputy."

Aimee expression softens as she puts her case file away.

"What do you mean?" She asks.

"My dad wants me to be a deputy but I want to write a book or something," James explains. "I don't get why I have to be a deputy."

"I'm sorry." Aimee nods. "I understand what it's like. I'm sure you'll be an exceptional author someday."

"May I walk you home?" James asks.

"Sure, why not?" Aimee smiles, grabbing her bag.

The pair walks out of the coffee shop and start their way to Aimee's house.

"So, what's your story?" James asks.

"Sorry kid I don't do backstories," Aimee says.

"Kid?" James questions. "I like, 9 months older than you."

Aimee rolls her eyes.

"Like that matters."

"And I'm way taller than you."

"I'm 4'10, that isn't that short."

"4'10?!" James teases.

"Keep your mouth shut." Aimee smiles. "If I can be a detective maybe I can find my other dad."

"You have two dads?" James asks, flustered.

"I used to," Aimee says, holding her head low. "And if you have a problem with that I can and will frame you for murder."

"N-no!" James stumbles. "Not a problem at all."

"Excellent," Aimee says, stopping in front of her house. "Well, this is my house."

Aimee hands the boy a map with markings left on it.

"Examine this map." Aimee declares. "It shows all the locations where the victims were murdered."

"Well, goodnight." James smiles, clutching the map.

"See you around," Aimee says, opening the gate and walking into her dark house.

Her father was still asleep. She sighs, relieved and grabs a soft blanket from the hallway closet. She drapes the blanket over her father's body and kisses his head. She walks up to her bedroom and collapses on her bed, falling asleep almost instantaneously.


	7. "Are you sure we should do that?"

Aimee wakes up to the sound of the doorbell ringing. Odd. She wasn't expecting anyone. She walks down the stairs and swings open the door. James was there, looking tired and disheveled. 

"I'm confused."

"Come in." Aimee sighs.

The boy walks in cautiously and checks both directions.

"Nice uh, bunny slippers." James mumbles.

"Thanks," Aimee says, rubbing her eyes.

"Um, so I have questions."

"Continue." Aimee crosses her arms.

"How exactly are these connected?"

Aimee sighs and starts walking to her fathers' office and James follows her. She swings open the door and rolls over the empty chalkboard. She quickly draws a diagram of the city, showing popular streets and buildings. Aimee quickly scribbles seven bullet points.

John Rogers

Robert Morgan

William Ross

Samuel Cook

Bob Davis

Richard Miller

Donald Scott

Aimee slams the chalk onto the lists of names.

"These are the victims," Aimee says.

James sits down into a chair and nods.

"John Rogers was discovered on Fourth Street in an alleyway," Aimee says, marking a space on the map.

"Robert Morgan was discovered on Fourth street too but in his Mafia bosses office. William Ross was discovered between West and Main."

Aimee stops for a second to look at the boy.

"Now this victim is especially odd." Aimee sighs. "Samuel Cook was discovered in an alleyway on Main and Oak. Right next to the police station."

James looks at her still confused but continues to listen.

"Bob Davis was discovered on sixth street. And these two next victims were part of the only double murder in this case so far. Richard Miller and Donald Scott were both discovered on Third street."

"And all of this means?" James asks.

"They're all on the West side of town."

"Oh okay," James says.

"But this is strange. Why would the murderer commit these near the biggest police station in the city?"

"You're right." James realizes. "What do you know about the victims?"

"Well, the majority of them were in some variety of crime but I can't pinpoint it. That's exactly why I was going to sneak into the station today."

"Are you sure we should do that?" James nervously asks.

"Of course. I'll get dressed and we can go." Aimee says before smirking and saying, "That is if you're up for it."

"Of course I am." James swallows.

"Fine." Aimee smiles. "I'll get dressed and we can go."

Aimee runs up to her room only to throw on some clothes and quickly grab her bag. While running down the stairs she put her hair up into a ponytail and met James by the door.

"That was fast," James notes.

"Well, I need my information," Aimee replies.

They walk out of the door and onto the sidewalk.

"Your freckles." James starts. "I've never noticed them."

"Oh yeah. Those things." Aimee sighs. "They look ridiculous."

"I like them."

"Well thank you."

After a couple moments of silence James says,

"So, are we working tonight?"

"Depends on what we find," Aimee says. "I suppose if we find something intriguing we keep working but if it turns into a dead-end then I'll do more research and get back to you tomorrow."

"I hope you know I want to do this with you."

Aimee looks up at the boy.

"I'm not sure you want to see me at two in the morning trying to figure out a case. I'm quite frantic at that point."

"Well, I never really liked the idea of crime. But you've got me hooked now."

"I'm glad."

They finally reach the station and walk through the doors, the familiar smell of cigarette smoke and the loud chatting of men filling the air. Aimee leads the way to the storage room where she starts opening cabinets.

"Do you even know where to look?" James whispers.

"Of course I do!" Aimee counters.

Aimee looks through the folders for around 10 minutes and grabs 7 familiar folders. She shoves them into her satchel and taps James.

"Let's go." She whispers.

They leave the room and start to walk down the hallway. And of course, with Aimee's luck, they saw C.C Tinsley walking down the hall towards them.


	8. "Breakfast?"

"Hi, Papa!" Aimee laughs.

"What are you doing here Aims?" C.C asks before looking over to James. "Oh, hello James."

"I'm just hanging out with James." Aimee lies.  
She hates lying but sometimes you have to do it to get by.

"We were going to grab lunch. We're working on that school project together. The one we had to do over the summer."

"Well, you two have fun," C.C mumbles, half asleep before continuing his way down the hallway.

Aimee let go of a breath she didn't know she was holding.

"Jesus." Aimee sighs.

"What?" James questions, both continuing to walk out of the station.

"I hate lying to him."

"He seems nice."

"Breakfast?" Aimee asks, quickly.

"Of course!"

The rush over to a nearby restaurant and find a comfortable booth to sit at.

"What can I get you, kids?" A nice waitress asks.

"I'll take some waffles and a coke please." Aimee smiles.

"I'll have eggs, pancakes, and sausage with a water," James answers.

The waitress smiles and writes their orders down.

"It'll be right out."

Aimee opens her bag and grabs the files, opening the first one she grabbed. Samuel Cook. She examines the many typed words on the paper, catching a few but not reading the entire report because it would be a waste

"This is the weird one," Aimee notes, opening the file.

"What's it say?"

"Well, well, well," Aimee says, clicking her tongue. "Would ya look at that."

"What's it say?" James asks again, trying to lean over and get a look.

"He's got quite a lengthy history. Assaulted multiple women and children, arson, robbery, and other violent acts." Aimee nods. "I knew this guy was a vulgar one."

Aimee promptly put the folder back into her bag and the waitress walks over with their food. Aimee thanks the waitress and grabs another folder once she leaves. Bob Davis. She examines the folder and her stomach flips and it feels like she's going to throw up.

"Domestic violence. He was tried but let go." Aimee glares. "Fucking asshole."

"Hey!" James speaks, mouth full of pancakes. "Watch your mouth!"

"I don't blame him for strangling him. He was high class too."

Aimee grabs another folder. Richard Millers. It was practically empty. A man of high standing could get his record erased.

"There's not much here," Aimee states, shoveling a piece of waffle into her mouth.

"So this guy's innocent," James says.

Aimee shakes her head and swallows her food.

"No way. Rich people get their records cleared all the time."

"Is that why you're not in jail?"

"Shut up."

Aimee rolls her eyes before grabbing a folder yet again. Robert Morgan.

"Ah yes. This guy." Aimee exclaims upon seeing the familiar name.

"Who's that?" James asks, eating some of his sausage.

"Robert Morgan. Pretty well known to the Mafia. He wasn't a boss or anything but he was still well known. Shot dead in his Mafia Bosses office. He did a ton of money laundering so that's this whole document."

Aimee grabs another folder which reads, John Rogers. Aimee opens the folder to scan the document. Just a normal criminal. Shady guy.

"This guys your average criminal. Violent, arrested for assault, the basics." Aimee reasons, sipping her coke.

Aimee grabs one of the two folders left. William Ross. She scans the report to see he's much like Robert Morgan. Well known for money laundering.

"William Ross is sort of like Robert Morgan," Aimee explains.

James nods, stuffing his face with food.

"Money laundering, well known."

Aimee grabs the final folder. Donald Scott. God, what an annoying man. Aimee knew him personally and he made her blood boil. She glares at the report.

"What's wrong?" James asks.

"I despised him," Aimee grumbles. "Just a rich asshole. Told me to get married and I wouldn't have to worry about being a detective. He assaulted a ton of women but was never convicted because of his high standing."

Aimee slams the folder onto the table.

"Asshole." She grumbles.


	9. "Now I'm definitely going. Whether you're coming or not."

"So what are we doing?" James asks.

The warm summer night feels almost like it's suffocating the two. Aimee wonders how someone could relax on such a hot night. The air feels thick. Like when someone says something uncomfortable in a conversation. It almost felt like they were in an oven. Aimee's ponytail at least made her neck a bit cooler but it didn't do much.

"Well, I was thinking of something," Aimee says. "But it's insane. I'm pretty sure you wouldn't like to join me."

"Well, what is it?"

Aimee swallows before sighing,

"The coroner's office."

"No!"

"Yes! I can see the bodies and see if the reports are accurate!"

"You can't go."

Aimee makes a little 'hmph' sound before stating,

"Now I'm definitely going. Whether you're coming or not."

"Fine, I'll come." James sighs.

"Are you sure?" Aimee questions.

James nods.

"Lead the way," James says.

Aimee starts the journey for the two.

"I'm assuming you're going to need to look away," Aimee says.

"Definitely," James says. "I can't deal with that stuff."

"I've seen it all in my books." Aimee smiles.

"So how exactly are you sneaking in?" James asks.

"They close at 8. There's a window they always leave unlocked."

James looks over as Aimee confused.

"How do you know?" He asks.

"Well, when your father works with dead people you tend to pick up a couple of things."

James nods.

"So what are you going to do once you find this guy?" James asks.

"Well, hopefully, they'll let me work with them. And then I can, ya know'"

Aimee tries to swallow the lump in her throat.

"Find my other father."

"Why do you want to find him so bad?"

"Well, I just want to confirm he's dead."

"Well, at least you have another dad."

"I guess."

"If you work at the station we can hang out every day." James grins.

Aimee smiles softly.

"I guess you're right."

The tiny office is now right in front of the pair. It looks like a natural place. Brown, isolated and dull. No one would ever suspect the amount of bodies within the building. It was completely dark, filling Aimee with regret and anxiety.

"Well, time to go inside," Aimee says, leading to the left side of the building.

"You're just going to break in?" James asks. "Isn't this illegal?"

"It's only illegal if you're caught."

"I don't think my father would agree with that logic."

"That's tough."

Aimee moves a garbage bin below the window and climbs onto the bin to open the window.

"Too short to reach the window?" James asks.

"Fuck off."

Aimee opens the window with a creak and the smell of cleaning supplies hit her like a brick. She hops and grabs the ledge of the window, hoisting herself up and over the window. Aimee lands into the room, peeking out of the window to see James still standing outside.

"You coming in?"

James starts to make his way up and Aimee turns to see the rest of the room. She grabs her flashlight and scans the room. She notices a waiting room of sorts. A large desk with flowers and a bowl of candy. A loud thump shakes the floor. Aimee quickly whips around to see James on the ground.

"Christ, kid." Aimee groans.

"Sorry that I'm over five foot and have a hard time keeping my balance." James sarcastically says.

"Remind me to grab some of that candy before we go," Aimee notes.

"Aimee you are not taking that candy-"

"I am! Who's going to stop me?"

James groans and steps closer to Aimee. Aimee walks around the room, examining her surroundings. They must have landed in the reception office. There was a desk with some decorations and a small amount of paperwork. Some chairs around, nothing much though. Aimee walks over to the door and opens it, leading her to a hallway. She walks out into the pitch-black hallway and a feeling a genuine fear washes over her. She wasn't scared of murderers or the mafia but if there were any monsters, they would be here. The dark has and will always be Aimee's biggest fear.

However, Aimee persists and keeps walking down the empty hallway. Her flashlight passes over a sign and Aimee redirects the light back to the sign. It says one simple word that sent chills down her spine.

Morgue.


	10. "This isn't particularly how I wanted to go."

"James, come on." Aimee's voice echos down the shadowy stairs.

The door was now open, leading to a dark basement that may lead to the pairs' inevitable doom. The only thing lighting the way was Aimee's dull flashlight so the two could only see five or ten feet in front of them. Aimee starts to walk down the wooden stairs, obvious creaking noises filling the basement. Aimee ran her hand along the wall in hopes of finding some type of railing but to no avail. The wall was rough, some type of stone Aimee imagines.

"This isn't particularly how I wanted to go." Aimee sighs, gently walking downstairs.

It feels like the stairs could collapse at any moment, and maybe they would have if the two hadn't been so light.

"This is so creepy," James whispers, sticking close to Aimee.

"Well, you didn't have to come here." Aimee smiles.

"You didn't either!"

Aimee rolls her eyes and she finally feels solid ground. Concrete. It was freezing. The chill felt like knives to their exposed skin, sending extra goosebumps over the two. The pair didn't feel the cold much though, due to the adrenaline. Aimee walks to the left only to run into a cart and fall over. James laughs before helping her up.

"It's dark I didn't see it!" Aimee giggles.

Aimee finally sees where they keep the bodies. They look like safes but instead of holding gold coins they hold barely decomposing bodies.

"There," Aimee says, nodding to the safes.

"I'll be standing on the other side of the room," James says, walking away from Aimee.

Aimee moves her flashlight over the labels.

'Mary Saber, Charles Sabin, Andrew Sable, Frank Sage, Henry Sallas, Donald Scott.'

Aimee grips the handle to the safe and swings it open. She looks at the toe tag, attached to a pale, almost white foot.

'Donald Scott.'

She grabs one end of the table in the safe, making the body come out on a stretcher of sort. The scene makes Aimee's stomach flip and she covers her mouth with her hand. It was gruesome. They didn't even bother to clean the blood off the body. Donald Scott was stabbed in the chest at least twelve times. His throat was cleanly slit and his stomach was stabbed multiple times. Aimee scrambles to grab her notebook as she quickly transcribes the scene.

"Well?" James asks from across the room.

Aimee could tell by his voice he was covering his eyes.

"It's bad," Aimee says, still writing notes. "A lot worse than what they say."

Aimee finishes her notes and slides the table back in place, careful to not disturb the body any more than it already was.

"Let's go," Aimee says, shoving her notebook back into her bag. James stumbles back to Aimee's flashlight and they walk up the creaky stairs yet again. They softly close the door and find their way back to the reception room. The hallway is still empty and undisturbed, thank God. Aimee opens the door to meet the family room, bathed in moonlight. Aimee rushes over to the desk and grabs the bowl of candy, shoving it into her bag.

"Aimee!" James hisses.

"What? I did the hard work I deserve this!"

James continues to fall out of the window while Aimee jumps and lands on her feet. She stealthily closes the window and moves the trash bin back.

"Like it never even happened." Aimee smiles.

James rolls his eyes and they keep walking.

"Aimee we could have gotten caught!" James says.

"Well, you didn't have to come." Aimee shrugs.

"I guess you're right." James sighs. "But you need to be more careful."

"I will once I catch this guy," Aimee smirks.

Aimee kicks a rock into an alley and it hits something.

"What was that?" James asks.

"Maybe a cat or something?" Aimee questions.

The pair walk over and they see a body only visible by the streetlamps, caked in blood. James turns pale and turns to his right to promptly vomit.

"Jesus kid!" Aimee exclaims, putting a hand on his back in an attempt to comfort him.

While James is emptying the contents of his stomach onto the ground Aimee puts the back of her hand to the corpses' exposed arm. It's warm. Then Aimee examines the body closer. Gunshots to the chest and stomach. Just then it clicks.

"James..." Aimee shakily says.

James hums in response, wiping his mouth of vomit.

"We just stumbled across a crime scene. This isn't the work of the California Killer. And it's fresh."


	11. "Run."

Right on cue, they hear men shouting and the sound of footsteps running towards them.

"Run." Aimee says, grabbing James' arm.

The two start running as fast as possible.

"Hey get those kids!" One of the men says.

Aimee could barely hear the men over the sound of her heart beating. Running is easy for Aimee, just putting one foot in front of the other as fast as possible. Even with James' long legs, he could barely keep up with Aimee. The adrenaline made the pair run much faster, however. Aimee's legs start to go numb as the two-run through alleyways and behind shops. Aimee was surprised they stayed in front of the two grown men for that long. Aimee's nose started to run from the wind hitting her face and the pure adrenaline. Aimee's blood catches fire and her throat starts to close.

"First Street!" Aimee pants. "It's a main road, there's no way they'll chase us that way!"

They dash across the street and onto a sidewalk but the men are still right behind them. Aimee checks behind her to notice only two men were now following them. She turns to face in front of her the two other men are heading towards them, ready to murder them. Aimee and James stop dead in their tracks.

"Oh, God!" Aimee says.

They're stuck. Bluffing could be dangerous.

"We're going to die!" James says, grabbing his hair. "We're going to die!!"

Aimee realizes something. The rushing water below.

"We're going to have to jump," Aimee exclaims.

"Are you kidding?" James asks. "We'll die!"

"That's only if you jump off yourself!" Aimee explains. "There's a 50/50 chance you'll hit your head on the way down but I can keep you afloat."

"Do you know how to swim?" James asks.

"Sure!" Aimee says.

Aimee grabs James's hand and jumps, bringing him down with her. He screams and they land in the freezing, cold water. At first, it feels like a relief from the heat of their running. Then it feels like needles stabbing and poking at Aimee's sides. Aimee swims up to the surface, her lungs burning.

"James!?" She yells.

"Over here!" A voice says.

Aimee swims over to the boy as they float down the river, waiting for it to slow down. They finally get to a slowing point and crawl to the bank.

"We almost died!" James yells, getting up.

"I know!" Aimee says, rubbing her eyes. "I wasn't thinking, I'm sorry-"

"Your life is just so privileged you thought it would be so fun to go on an adventure!" James yells. "You thought it was just fun and games to try to find a murderer!"

"Excuse me?" Aimee yells back, getting up from the ground.

"You just think you're such a great detective, but you're not!"

"Have you ever had a dream?"

"We could have died!" James yells. "Sorry, your rich-kid life is so boring!"

"It's not a great life!" Aimee yells, warm tears running down her cold face. "The only reason that I'm doing this is to protect my father and figure out if my other father is dead!"

James went silent as Aimee wipes her tears with her soaking sleeve.

"Aimee I'm-"

"Just forget it," Aimee growls. "It was a dumb fantasy anyways."

Aimee pushes her way past the tall boy, her clothes still soaking. Her soaked skin was gleaming in the moonlight. The wind was drying her wet skin and hair. Her hair turned light brown instead of her normal blonde color due to the water. Aimee stumbles to the side of the road and sits on the sidewalk, letting her feet lay on the street. She covers her big eyes with her palms and wrists. She starts to cry a bit, she was holding everything in for so long it felt like all her emotions were spilling out onto the concrete.

"I thought I told you I was done." Aimee sighs.

"No, you're not," James says, sitting next to her.

"I am," Aimee says. "I can't do it anymore. I put you in danger."

"Like you said," James says, putting a hand on Aimee's shoulder. "You're going to find him and I promised I would swallow my words."

Aimee smiles and rubs her tiny, freckled nose before James says,

"Let's go home you're freezing and I don't want you catching a cold"


	12. "We're splitting up."

"I've been planning all day," Aimee admits, closing the gate to her house.

"Please don't say we're digging up a body." James groans.

Aimee scoffs.

"Of course not."

Aimee looks up to the boy before smirking and saying,

"We're splitting up."

"That's a terrible idea!" James yells. "Wait, where's your bag you always have?"

"Well, if I stake out and then, ideally the California Killer tries to kill me. Then if you hear me scream, you can catch him and get the police!"

"That is a terrible plan."

"It is not!" Aimee defends. "I won't die or anything, and the authorities should arrive quickly. They're currently on high alert. There's a twenty-four-hour convenience store open nearby, which you can hang out in."

"God, why did I agree to this." James sighs.

"Because I might just be the best detective in this damn town."

James chuckles as they start to walk to Fifth Street.

"The only reason I'm even working for the station is because of my dad. If he never made me, I wouldn't be here. I'd probably be sleeping." James says.

"And I'd gladly be solving a murder with some other schmuck." Aimee smiles.

"Maybe I'd be with Mary." James dreamily sighs.

"Mary?" Aimee questions.

"We're going to get married someday."

"James, you're 13."

"So are you!" James defends. "Are you planning your wedding?"

"No thanks." Aimee smiles.

Ideally, she wants to get married to a nice girl. Or boy. Or anyone else who loved her.

Then a tiny store came into view, one of the only places with their lights still on.

"Is that where I'm staying?" James asks.

"Yup." Aimee smiles. "Have fun!"

"You're sure you'll be safe?" James asks.

"I promise." Aimee nods. "And if I don't come back within an hour, leave."

"Leave?!" James yells.

"Absolutely. By that point, I'm either dead or ran away and couldn't come back."

"Please, be careful." James sighs.

"I promise."

James walks into the store and disappears into the aisles. Aimee walks to her right, ready to find the monster who was terrorizing her city.


	13. "Get her."

"Is that Tinsley?" Someone asks.

Aimee freezes in her tracks.

"It is!" Another voice says. "I'd know that skittish little bitch anywhere!"

Aimee turns around to see five girls from her school. Dorothy, Margret, Helen, Virginia, and Ruth. With them, they had their boyfriends Frank, Joseph, Daniel, George, and Winston. They never liked Aimee.

"What are you doing out so late?" Ruth asks.

"And near a strip club!" Helen shrieks.

"Leave me alone." Aimee mumbles.

The girls laugh, their perfectly straight and gorgeous hair moving with their heads.

"Get her." Ruth glares.

Frank, George, and Winston back her into a wall and pin her onto the ground.

"Let me go!" Aimee cries.

"Shut up!" Ruth says.

Ruth grabs Aimee's arms but at that moment Aimee turns her head. Ruth's sharp ruby ring scraps Aimee's face, leaving a deep scratch from the right side of her head to the middle of her under eye. It stings and some of the girls gasp a little. The boys drop Aimee and she stands up again, a bit tipsy from the impact. Then Aimee feels something hard hit her face and stumbles backward feeling something warm running down her face. She wipes under her nose and looks at her shaking hands. Blood. Before she can process what's going on, she's hit again, this time knocking her onto the asphalt. Aimee falls into a puddle, her hands stinging from the gravel. Her mouth was now bleeding too. The kids start laughing and Aimee turns around to face them. Before she can see them Frank hits her in the eye, making her vision even more blurry.

Someone kicks her in the nose, making it bleed much more.

"See ya in the fall, Tinsley!!" Ruth taunts, making everyone else laugh.

Aimee's pants and rests her head on the cold concrete. Everything hurt. Her body's throbbing. She just wants to go home, crawl under the covers and never come out. Aimee tries to swallow the lump in her throat and she gets up. Her knees are shaking but she knows what she has to do. She keeps walking and sees herself in a shop mirror. The scratch under her right eye was still bleeding a bit but it's not that bad. Her other eye has a light bruise surrounding it but it wasn't swelling. The bridge of her tiny nose has a cut on it and both of her nostrils have blood flooding out of them. Her lip is pretty badly split but overall, her face wasn't too horrifically beaten. Aimee continues her walk and peeks onto Second Street. A man with a knife was lurking around. Maybe this was the California Killer. Aimee looks closer.

It's the same knife the California Killer uses. Aimee grabs the small switchblade she has in her pocket and creeps over to him. He walks into an alleyway and Aimee follows close behind him.

"Put the knife down." She strongly says.

The man stops and turns to face the girl.

He's a whole foot taller than her. He has almost black eyes that match his black suit. Oddly fancy for a murderer.

"You heard me," Aimee says, holding her knife up. "Put it down."

"Listen, kid," He says.

His voice. It sounds so familiar. Almost like Aimee's brain knows him. But that impossible. She's sure she's never met this man.

"You gotta let me go." He says. "I'll give you anything."

"You can't give me what I want," Aimee growls. "And I can get officers here in seconds."

"I can kill you in seconds." He says backing himself into the right side of the alleyway wall.

Aimee turns to her right, now moving closer to the killer. The killer sits on the ground still holding the knife tightly.

"Listen, I'm just trying to convict you so I can find my dad." Aimee blurts.

The man freezes up and looks at Aimee.

"What's your name?"

"A-Aimee," Aimee whispers. "Aimee Tinsley."

The man lets out a small gasp before mumbling,

"It's me. Ricky."

Time froze. Aimee's blood froze. She feels her knees grow weak and a wave of emotion overflow her.

"N-no." Aimee stumbles. "It's impossible."

"Aimee Elizabeth Tinsley." The man claiming to be Ricky says. "Born on December 23 at 5:36 AM."

Ricky drops his knife and so does Aimee.

"Oh God its you." Aimee sniffles.

Aimee runs over to him and collapses into his arms.

"I'm so, so sorry." Ricky mumbles.

"I don't want your apology," Aimee says into his chest.

Ricky lifts her head from his chest, holding her face so gently. His hand freezing her tear-stained face.

"What happened to your face, baby?" He asks, brushing a strand of blonde hair behind her ear.

"That's not important," Aimee says. "I need to get you to dad."

"I'm not sure he'll-"

"He's never stopped talking about you."

Ricky bites his lip, thinking for a moment.

"Okay." He finally says.

Aimee grabs Ricky's hand and starts to lead him the way back home.

"Sorry I kind of tried to kill you," Aimee says, looking at her shoes.

"It's alright kiddo," Ricky says. "Sorry I kind of left you for four-thousand eight-hundred and fifty-four days."

Aimee was taken aback for a moment.

"It's ok." She smiles.

"How have you and dad been?" Ricky asks.

"It's been tough without you." Aimee sighs. "Dad doesn't get enough sleep and he works too much."

"He's always been like that." Ricky grins.

Thinking of what Ricky had done scared Aimee but she feels a little safer when she's with him. Aimee unlocks the gate to her house and leads Ricky into the house, making sure to be quiet. She peeks into her fathers' study where he's awake and working hard.

"Papa?" Aimee says.

C.C's head stays glued to his work.

"Yes, sweetheart?"

"I think there's someone you should see."

C.C looks up and his eyes are met with her lovers.

"Goldsworth!" He exclaims, tackling the man in a hug and softly kissing him.

"I'm so sorry," Ricky says.

"I knew you'd come back," C.C says.

C.C opens his eyes and looks at his daughter.

"Oh Christ kid what happened to your face!"

"Oh yeah, about that." Aimee awkwardly chuckles.

"Come on, Aimee. To the kitchen." C.C says, pushing his daughter to the kitchen. "Ricky, can you grab the cotton balls and disinfectant? It's-"

"In the third cabinet to the left? I know." Ricky says.

C.C smiles as his heart fills with more joy. Finally, his daughter and lover were both by his side. And they were here to stay.


End file.
